


Smile

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why does every one of his smiles have this effect on me?" All the smiles Arthur expected from Eames, and the one smile he didn't expect. Arthur/Eames</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out [here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> Note: I noticed in almost every Inception fic I read, as well as in the movie, there is always a moment set aside to honour the smiles that Eames saves for Arthur. Then I started to realize that, in both stories and the movie, Eames's smiles tell a lot of tales.
> 
> I'm honestly not sure how I feel about how this fic turned out and it was surprisingly difficult to write. Any opinions or input would be really appreciated. But if you're interested I do have two other Arthur/Eames stories posted called "Please Remember Me" and "Trials"

**I - The Smug Smile**

 

The first time Arthur ever had the misfortune of meeting Eames was when he and Cobb had travelled to England searching for the so-called ‘best’ Forger out there. There was a new job quickly approaching – the most difficult they had yet encountered – and they were building their team.

 

Arthur had been doing research on the mark for weeks while Nash worked on building the dreamscapes for the required two levels. But even after a few trial runs Arthur finally admitted to Cobb that they would need another member – a specialist – to pull this off. He had been expecting Cobb to head off to England on his own, leaving Arthur happily to his research in southern Spain, but he had been wrong.

 

Cobb had explained that he wanted Arthur there with him to form his own opinion on this man. Arthur should have expected this; Cobb valued his opinion and knew that in order for any job to work they both needed to trust the team members they invited in. You didn’t dream share with just anyone.

 

That was how Arthur found himself staring through the slightly fogged window directly against his left side, watching the steady downpour over a cobbled street and green fields further in the distance. The sky had been heavy with clouds threatening to open up since their plane had landed so Arthur was thankful that it had waited until they were rushing out of the cab and into the _Three Drummers_ pub.

 

There was a drink sitting in front of him on the table more for show than anything else since he was not comfortable drinking before such an important meeting. Cobb sat beside him, leaving the opposite side of the table free, and took careful sips of his own drink. Arthur could tell the man was scrutinizing their surroundings while maintaining a calm exterior.

 

This ‘forger’ was already twenty minutes late and Arthur was getting a little bored and frustrated; this man certainly didn’t act with the professionalism of a specialist. A few minutes later they both heard the door chime but did not look over. Instead they waited for the man Eames – The Forger – to sit down opposite them who chose the seat directly opposite Arthur.

 

When Arthur looked the man over he immediately focused on the man’s ugly tweed jacket, soaked and covering an equally soaked dress shirt. The pattern on that shirt made Arthur wish the man had walked here through fire rather than rain so that the atrocious fabric would no longer exist. But he held back those thoughts, knowing that the man’s lack of fashion sense did not determine his skills in a dream, and instead chose to say “You’re late.”

 

“Yeah well in case you didn’t realize this fact it is pissing rain out there,” Eames jerked a thumb at the window while taking a deep sip of his drink before cradling it in one hand.

 

“A natural born Englishman detained nearly thirty minutes by _rain_?” Arthur drawled sceptically. He would have picked up on the man’s accent even if he hadn’t already read everything that was known about the Forger, which hadn’t been much.

 

Eames’s eyes narrowed with an emotion Arthur could not name; anger, curiosity, determination? But Cobb’s even voice cut over anything that would have been said next, “Alright let’s get on with business. How about we give him an idea of what’s involved,” Cobb spoke to Arthur without looking over at him.

 

Arthur nodded, having already decided exactly what he would tell this man and what he would omit. Meeting a new dream worker, especially in a public location, always required some level of caution and secrecy. Names were rarely used and it was considered inappropriate to ask someone about their past jobs. This was mainly paranoia sprouted from working in an illegal trade but it was usually a pointless question anyway since you would not have shared the dream to know the truth anyway.

 

Arthur made sure to point out all the challenges of the job that this man would need to overcome so that he would be aware of the difficulty level. But he made sure to keep out specifics that could be used to trace their team, their employer or their mark. When he was finished he leaned back in his chair, unaware of when he had leant so far forward.

 

He was expecting the man to apologize and stand up from their table so he was surprised by Eames’s reaction. The man opposite him leaned back, front two legs of his chair off the floor; he almost looked bored. Eames shrugged, “Sounds easy enough to me.”

 

Arthur, in slight disbelief, leaned forward again, “I don’t think you were listening. This is a very challenging job that requires the absolute _best_ to even have a hope of pulling this off.”

 

And there it was – the first smile Eames had ever sent directly at Arthur. His chair tipped forward and he leaned across the table, mimicking Arthur’s posture. The smile curved Eames’s lips up, with the smugness adding a dangerous curl. It spoke of confidence and an excessive pride in himself and his abilities.

 

Arthur was shocked by the impact it had on him, though it was too quick for him to control his automatic reaction. He felt himself bristle under that look, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tightly. He was so startled by the effect this stranger’s smug smile had on him that he barely heard Eames’s next comment, “Lucky for you, darling, I _am_ the best.”

 

**II – The Challenging Smile**

 

The next smile came shortly after when he, Cobb and Eames arrived back in southern Spain. Once they arrived back at the hot warehouse Arthur had immediately delved back into his research on the mark, reading and rereading facts. Cobb and Eames had begun doing some trial runs, testing out Nash’s architecture as well as the abilities Eames claimed.

 

It had been an entire week, the job drawing closer, and Arthur had avoiding dream sharing with Eames. He told himself that it was because Eames was a stranger and he didn’t trust him, but there was more to it than that. There was something about Eames that just made Arthur feel...off kilter. Which was why, when Cobb came over to his desk after a week’s time to ask him to go on a trial with Eames, he immediately refused.

 

He felt petty and childish, immediately chiding himself on his lack of professionalism. But before Cobb could ask him any questions on his reasoning Eames came up, all swagger, and sat on the edge of Arthur’s desk. Organized paper and folders spilled messily along the surface of the desk from their original pile and Arthur sighed, resting his forehead in one hand.

 

When he looked up a moment later he saw that Cobb had left to discuss something with Nash and Arthur had been left alone with Eames. The man had remained where he sat, leafing through stray pages of information without much interest. “So I hear you don’t want to dream share with me,” he spoke quietly, trying to appear bored even though Arthur could tell he was curious about the reason.

 

“As you might have seen, I am rather busy fulfilling my own duties,” Arthur pulled the papers sharply out of Eames’s hands. Arthur reorganized them and then made a show of taking detailed notes from what he read on the page.

 

He was aware that the other man was still poised on his desk, sucking one finger where Arthur had given him a paper cut. “You know what I think, pet?” Arthur looked up with a glare at the name and was met with Eames’s smirk. One corner of his mouth was turned up and his eyes danced with challenge. The smile was almost predatory – feral – and screamed ‘I dare you’. “I think you’re afraid that I’m as good at what I do as I say I am.”

 

Arthur felt his back straighten before he pushed himself into a standing position, coming eye to eye with the other man. His own challenging smile came to his lips, teeth bared slightly, and he stiffly strode over to the lounge chairs by the dream device. He set everything up before sitting down, watching Eames follow behind him with that challenge still twisting his lips. This was the first time that Eames directed this smile at him; the smile that could make him forget himself and do stupid things just to try and prove Eames wrong. But it wouldn’t be the last time.

 

“Impress me,” was all Arthur said before he pushed the needle under his skin.

 

**III – The Amused Smile**

 

After they successfully completed their job in southern Spain Arthur was not forced to see Eames for another few years. He, Cobb and Nash had continued taking jobs while Eames had branched off to do some traveling, “Maybe Mombasa,” he had suggested with a shrug on his way out the door.

 

Their team of three was motivated by different things – money (Nash), the chance to return home (Cobb), the possibilities in the dreamscape (Arthur) – but they all functioned well enough together. They never called Eames back because his speciality was never required for the jobs they were given. That was, of course, until Nash betrayed them and an intelligent business man named Saito had roped them into working on inception.

 

He and Cobb had already found a new architect, a girl named Ariadne that Arthur was training, when Cobb came up to him one day to tell him that he was going to get Eames. Arthur reminded the extractor that there were plenty of good thieves out there, but only half-heartedly. Arthur and Cobb both knew from experience that Eames truly was the best forger.

 

It wasn’t long after that when their new team assembled together in the Parisian warehouse. Arthur sat in his chair, tilted on its back legs slightly as he took notes while the others discussed around him. He was not really paying attention to the discussion at hand, focused on his notes, so he only distantly heard Eames’s voice, “This, Ariadne, would be a kick.”

 

The next moment Arthur was flailing, trying to regain balance after Eames nudged his chair back with a foot. All four legs of the chair met the concrete floor with a small crack and Arthur sighed in relief before shooting a glare at the other man. Arthur did not understand the grin that stretched Eames’s lips with such honest amusement – it hadn’t been _that_ funny.

 

Arthur studied the smile as it still played along Eames’s twitching lips, as if he was a second away from pent up laughter. He had never seen this smile before, though he was not surprised by its appearance. Annoying Arthur had always seemed to give Eames unmeasured amusement; apparently a few years apart had not dulled that.

 

Much to Arthur’s frustration, Eames took it upon himself to be in the room whenever Arthur was testing out one of Yusuf’s specially designed compounds to make sure that the kick was still functional. This meant that every time he blinked his eyes open from where he had come to rest on the hard concrete floor, the first thing that Arthur saw was Eames’s amused smile usually accompanied by a chuckle.

 

Arthur would always pull himself up, pushing down the embarrassment and exasperation as he dusted off his suit. Without a glance over at the forger he would stalk away, not even acknowledging the tiny thought that sometimes sprung up in response to those smiles; he was the only one who seemed to provide Eames with that much amusement. After all, he told himself harshly one time as he sat down at his desk, that wasn’t something to be proud of; it just meant that Eames was making jokes at his expense.

 

**IV – The Flirtatious Smile**

 

Considering the fact that Eames flirted with just about anything that moved Arthur had been expecting the forger to one day turn that flirtatious smile on him. He had not, however, been expecting it the precise moment it did get sent his way.

 

It was late when Arthur left the warehouse; everyone had stayed late that night. Cobb was under with Yusuf reading a book on dream compounds, watching over his prone form. As he picked up his bag and headed for the door he saw Ariadne pointing out specifics of her maze for the dream’s third level to Eames, who had a finger pressed to his lips as he concentrated. Eames glanced up at him quickly before dropping his gaze again as Arthur passed.

 

He decided to head to a bar he knew was a short distance from the hotel the team was staying at. Having left the warehouse alone with everyone else busy meant that he had the opportunity to get a quiet drink alone, free to think and relax. Unfortunately, he had barely finished one drink before Eames suddenly came up beside him and stole the stool next to his, “Darling I’m hurt, why did you not tell me you were headed out for some fun?” Eames pouted before ordering his own drink and another for Arthur.

 

“Because I wanted to be alone,” Arthur didn’t bother being subtle, knowing Eames would not grasp his hint otherwise.

 

But apparently even that was too subtle because Eames smiled slyly, brushing his hand unnecessarily against Arthur’s as he reached for his ordered drink. “You’re right, pet, we can have fun all by ourselves.”

 

The smile was small but impossible to miss. It was flirty and playful, made entirely to draw Arthur’s attention to the man’s soft lips. Eames’s eyes sparkled with mischief and his eyelashes fluttered – a trick he had no doubt learned from his many female roles. Arthur just noticed then how feminine Eames’s lashes were as they drew attention to his blue green eyes, and how natural that flirtatious expression looked on him.

 

Eames, seeming to notice Arthur’s momentary lapse in attention, leaned closer so that Arthur could feel the warm breath slipping past that smile on his ear. “How about it, love? Want to go start our own party?” he whispered.

 

This jolted Arthur back into his own mind, remembering why he couldn’t let himself get caught up in Eames’s smiles. How many other people had Eames sent that smile to, or any of the other smiles he had experienced for that matter? Eames didn’t mean anything by it; he just wanted to annoy Arthur and catch him off guard.

 

Without a word Arthur stood up from his stool and left the bar without touching his second drink. He heard Eames call out to him once but he did not pursue him as Arthur returned to his own hotel room. He closed the door, finally alone, and began preparing for sleep.

 

He had been expecting Eames’s flirtatious smile but he had not been prepared for it.

 

**V – The Fake Smile**

 

Arthur was dreaming in the maze Ariadne had created for the dream’s second level. He traveled as much of the hotel as he was able to, looking for flaws or opportunities for improvement. He was in room 491 making sure that it was directly below room 528, as well as determining where he would find the charges and the ideal locations to place them when the time came.

 

He heard the hotel room door click open as he hopped up onto a dresser to make sure he could reach easily enough to place the charge. He jumped off the dresser when he was satisfied only to find Ariadne standing in the doorframe. She looked around the room, taking in all the details she had designed, “How is it?”

 

Arthur replaced the vase on the dresser and walked over to her. “It’s very well made,” Arthur nodded encouragingly, “But there’s also a few places I think we could alter to help us on the job. Come, I’ll show you.”

 

He motioned towards the hallway and led her out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them. But before he had made it halfway to the elevator, Ariadne’s nervous voice stopped him, “Actually, I was hoping to talk with you privately for a moment. We never really get a chance with everyone working in the warehouse...” she trailed off quietly, looking away from Arthur with a blush.

 

Arthur turned around fully to regard her, giving her his full attention. “What is it?”

 

Ariadne weathered her lower lip between her teeth, deep in thought. Then she took a deep breath, Arthur expecting her to begin talking. Instead she took a bold step forward and caught his lips with her own, soft fingers holding his face close. Arthur was startled but wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss.

 

But a moment later he used his hands to push her away slightly, “No, stop,” he muttered. He kept his eyes closed, trying to figure out why he suddenly felt the need to stop this. Something about kissing Ariadne just felt wrong, and not just because they were in a dream. He opened his eyes, ready to explain as best he could, but instead his eyes narrowed, “Eames, you bastard!”

 

Arthur used his hands, which were resting on Eames’s broad shoulders now, to push the man away so hard that he stumbled a step. “Why did you stop, darling? Didn’t want your first time to happen in a dream?”

 

Arthur flushed and opened his mouth to retort but then closed his mouth with a snap, distracted by Eames’s smile. It held all the telltale signs of smugness and amusement, having caught Arthur so off guard and in such an embarrassing situation but it was...off...hollow. The smile did not reach Eames’s eyes, which were clouded with what Arthur thought might be sadness. And there was a strain in his smile, showing the lack of true amusement as Eames forced it to remain on his face.

 

It made Arthur curious and left him with a lingering desire to wipe it away. Both men stood staring at each other silently as the dream crumbled around them, the device’s time coming to an end. Arthur realized that he had just seen Eames’s fake smile and admitted to himself that he didn’t want to see it again.

 

**VI – The Cheered Up Smile**

 

Eames had been the biggest pain in the ass in existence ever since he snuck into Arthur’s dream disguised as Ariadne. No one else knew about what had happened down in the dream and also seemed unaware of Eames’s shift in attitude when Arthur asked Cobb. Arthur knew the cause, of course, but not the reason behind it to understand why Eames was acting the way he was. Arthur wasn’t even sure if there _was_ something wrong.

 

The forger continued acting like his normal irritating self; speaking with a smug sarcasm, teasing Arthur with amusement and flirting with everything he came in contact with. No one else seemed to notice anything different but Arthur detected a hint of sharpness in Eames’s sarcasm, coldness in his teasing, dullness in his flirting.

 

Arthur didn’t know what to think, especially with everyone he asked giving him odd looks. This was why he decided to take Yusuf’s place in watching over Eames late one night when the forger had gone under. He had stayed late to finish up some details on Ariadne’s mazes and then tapped Yusuf on the shoulder, Eames already under.

 

Yusuf had taken his offer in relief since it was well past two in the morning at this point. He packed his things and wished Arthur a good night before heading to the hotel, leaving Arthur alone with a sleeping Eames. He considered slipping into the dream with him but decided against it; the last time they had done that caused this whole mess.

 

Instead he watched the sleeping man, who had been going under more and more often lately to ‘practice’, or so he proclaimed. Eames looked relaxed and peaceful – something Arthur didn’t see often. It seemed like Eames always had a mask ready to slip behind rather than show his true feelings. The only times Arthur had seen Eames’s genuine expressions was through his smiles.

 

Arthur fell down into his own thoughts, wondering why Eames was like this. Habit, caution, fear? He was jolted out of his thoughts by a confused voice, rough with sleep, “Arthur?” He pushed his musings aside and looked over at Eames who was rubbing sleep from his eyes and stretching, “What are you doing here?”

 

“I came to talk to you,” Arthur suddenly felt unsure of his words.

 

“About what?” Eames remained in his chair.

 

“About when you snuck into my dream and how you’ve been acting after that,” he explained in a rush.

 

Eames raised an eyebrow, “I haven’t been acting any differently.”

 

Arthur wanted to protest but how could he explain why he thought there was a difference? ‘Because he paid attention to Eames’s smiles’, how peculiar would that sound?  He decided in that moment that he should give up now before he embarrassed himself. “My mistake then,” he stood sharply, fighting down his blush.

 

“Are you worried about me? Darling, I never knew you cared,” Eames smirked up at him, still lounging in his chair. Arthur remained silent, not dignifying the statement with a response. But suddenly to his surprise a genuine smile broke out onto Eames’s face.

 

Arthur stared down at him as this smile spread across his face. It must have been infectious too because he felt it tug his own lips upwards slightly. It was a smile he had never seen before and it shone as brightly as the sun. Arthur felt warmth roll over his body, as if he truly was standing under the midday sun.

 

He turned on his heel abruptly, “Goodnight,” was all he said before he took a deep breath and began walking. There was only one thought that ran through his head: he had cheered Eames up...somehow. _He_ had caused that smile.

 

“Goodnight, love.”

 

**VII – The Worried Smile**

 

A week had passed since that night and everything seemed to be going smoothly. Eames was back to his normal self – after Arthur had seen that brilliant smile he had been sure that something had been wrong before – and everyone was getting on the plane to attempt inception. He and Eames had sat across the small first-class section from one another and shared a look before feeling the device and sedative pull them under.

 

Now they were almost through the second level and in a minute everyone would slip down into the third level, leaving Arthur alone on this level to deal with Fischer’s security. He finished helping Cobb put Fischer under and pulling out the leads for everyone else before quickly crossing the carpet towards Eames with a solitary lead.

 

The forger was already lying down on the carpet, undoing the cuff of his shirt so that Arthur could grab his wrist and slide the material up easily. “Security’s going to run you down hard,” Eames spoke quietly, eyes trained on his wrist, only loud enough for Arthur to hear.

 

Arthur gripped Eames’s wrist a little tighter as he prepared the needle when he saw the worry trying to tear away the man’s smile. Arthur placed as much humour and confidence in his response as he could muster under the stress, “And I will lead them on a merry chase.”

 

Eames grinned but it fell quickly. “Just be back before the kick,” Eames immediately retorted as he lay back on the carpet, worry and nerves tainting his otherwise relaxed voice.

 

Arthur felt the need to lean over Eames slightly, hands still twined around his wrist as he held the needle ready. He met Eames’s eyes and gave him the most reassuring smile he could manage, “Go to sleep, Mr. Eames.” He waited the split second for the worry to leave the man’s face before he slipped the needle under the forger’s skin, helping the now limp hand down into a resting position.

 

He stood up then, not having the time to consider Eames further as he got everyone else under. But once everyone was down on the third level and he was all alone he allowed himself a moment to look down at the sleeping Eames. That worried smile – that genuine concern for his wellbeing had meant more to Arthur than he allowed himself to admit as he closed the hotel door behind him and rushed down the hall.

 

**VIII – The Proud Smile**

 

Inception was over and a huge success. Arthur met Cobb’s disbelieving gaze with a smile and a shake of his head in his own disbelief. He couldn’t believe they had actually pulled it off. Eames caught his eye, looking relieved, and Arthur leaned back against his reclined chair, suddenly feeling exhausted.

 

When the plane landed Cobb pulled him aside to ask how he had created a kick in freefall. Arthur could read the mix of curiosity, pride, and a desperate need for a distraction in the extractor’s face so he explained it all to Cobb while they waited in line to have their passports checked. When he finished Cobb smiled and clapped him on the shoulder before Arthur’s line moved ahead quickly.

 

He easily got through customs and made his way to luggage pickup, knowing that Cobb would not appreciate everyone standing on the United States side of customs watching him. A short time later Arthur sighed in obvious relief and flashed Cobb a smile when he pushed a luggage trolley by the extractor. Cobb met his eye, a look of overjoyed disbelief still controlling his face as he walked by the luggage pickup and out to his ride home.

 

Arthur watched him until he disappeared from view and then focused on finding his luggage. Not a minute later he saw Eames pull a trolley up beside him, also looking for his luggage. Neither of them spoke, afraid of causing this to shatter and find out that they were still dreaming. “We actually did it, didn’t we darling?” Eames finally spoke as they both found their luggage and moved away from the conveyer belt.

 

“Yeah...I think we did,” Arthur laughed a little, the realization finally hitting him.

 

“You know Cobb told me how you created a kick in free fall,” Eames began as they both put their trolleys away and carried their luggage out of the exit to find a cab.

 

“It was nothing. I just did what I had to do,” Arthur ducked his head in embarrassment and against the sudden onslaught of cold wind that hit him as they ventured outside.

 

“No love, you were bloody brilliant!” Eames exclaimed confidently. Arthur looked up quickly and felt his heart stutter; no one had ever looked at him with such pride before. It caused warmth to spread through his body, the wind suddenly glancing off his body without effect. Before he even knew what he was doing he was smiling back at Eames happily.

 

Finally a new taxi pulled up on the curb and Eames’s smile dropped a bit, suddenly looking a bit unsure. “Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my place. I sure as hell know I don’t want to be alone after this job.”

 

Arthur’s smile dropped in his surprise over the offer. The taxi driver was standing by his car impatiently, waiting to take someone’s luggage. Arthur suddenly felt cornered, like everything was happening too fast. “I can’t,” he finally spoke. “I need to check up on my apartment and...other important things...”

 

“It’s alright, pet,” Eames cut in quickly, “Don’t worry about it. You take this taxi and I’ll grab the next one.” Before Arthur could protest the taxi driver had grabbed Arthur’s luggage and packed it into the trunk while Eames pulled open the back door for Arthur.

 

 Not knowing what else to do, Arthur slipped into the back seat, looking up at Eames. “We could at least share a taxi...” he muttered helplessly.

 

“No, we’re headed different directions right now,” Eames held out his hand and shook Arthur’s as the taxi driver slipped back into the driver’s seat. “It was good seeing you again, love,” he graced Arthur with a fake smile that made his stomach clench painfully before closing the taxi door and letting it pull away from the curb.

 

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose despite how chilled his fingers had become in the cold. He forced himself not to look out the back windshield, worried with what he might do. Once the taxi had pulled out of the airport pickup area he gave the man the address for his small apartment and slipped down on the leather seat with a groan.

 

**IX – The Surprised Smile**

 

It took him until he made it into his empty apartment and slipped under the covers to sleep for Arthur to realize that he had made a mistake. He hadn’t thought the inception job had affected him but when he closed his eyes to sleep his body refused to relax. That first night back in his apartment he didn’t sleep at all, instead staring up at the ceiling in frustration.

 

When the sun finally rose to signify the beginning of a new day Arthur gave up and pulled himself out of bed. He spent the day cleaning up his apartment after it had been left to collect dust for so long. Then he went out to pick up some groceries to stock up his barren fridge, already sick of take-out from one lunch.

 

He did manage to sleep the second night but his dreams were distorted, unstable and dangerous. He was jolted awake at around four in the morning, a thin layer of sweat on his body causing the sheets to stick to him uncomfortably. He caught his breath as his heart rate slowed; finally realizing that he was no longer being hunted in his dream. Then he fell back against his pillow with a curse of frustration.

 

This continued until the fifth day when he woke up with a scream that made his throat ache. He reached over to his bedside table, hands shakily grabbing his totem but its promise of reality did not calm him. He set it down and reached for his cell phone next, not knowing what else to do. He didn’t know where the forger lived but Arthur did have his number programmed into his phone.

 

He skimmed through his contacts list and chose Eames’s number. He lay back against the pillows, pale dawn light spilling over him as he anxiously listened to the phone ringing. He heard the answering machine click on, Eames’s voice telling him to leave a message. Arthur suddenly felt stupid and embarrassed about his minor panic attack and hung up without leaving a message.

 

He spent the entire day doing anything that came to mind in order to distract himself. It was only in the lull between moments that he had to remind himself that he was strong and he could pull through this all on his own. It was just some backlash from the inception job and it would fade with time. Everything would go back to normal and then he’d get back into the business and have a real job to keep him occupied.

 

All of those thoughts worked well to calm him down, bringing himself back down to his stoic, confident self. That is until he woke up the next morning when the sky was still the light gray before dawn broke over the horizon. This time it actually took him a few minutes to separate the dream and reality in his mind. Immediately he grabbed his die with one hand, clutching it so tightly it left imprints on his palm, and his cell phone with the other.

 

The Brit’s voice did nothing to calm him as he heard the answering machine click on again, “Leave a message.”

 

“Eames, it’s Arthur; give me a call,” he spoke quickly before clicking ‘end’, dropping the phone on the pillow beside him. He dropped an arm over his eyes and cursed.

 

He assured himself that Eames would call him back, if only to point out how pathetic Arthur had sounded in his message. But he never did and so many possibilities ran through his head. Was Eames angry with him? Had something bad happened to him? Or was the Brit doing perfectly fine, too busy enjoying the life a payout like inception gives you to call Arthur back? Either way, Arthur was eventually forced to admit to himself that he was on his own.

 

Being in his apartment was not helping matters though so he grabbed his coat, deciding to go out and do...something. He saw himself in the hallway mirror on his way out and blanched at the sight. His eyes were dull with bags under his eyes that looked more like someone had punched him in both eyes – twice. His hair was a mess and he hadn’t been bothered to shave in two days.

 

He glared at himself, frustrated that he had let this happen, and shoved his hands in his pockets to brave the outdoor chill. But as he did so he felt a crumpled piece of paper buried deep in his left hand pocket. Curious, he pulled it out and smoothed the torn corner of paper out. An address was scrawled on it in Eames’s messy writing. With a start, Arthur realized that the forger must have slipped it into his pocket before closing the taxi door.

 

Thoughts of aimlessly walking outside were banished as he rushed back into his room to pack everything he needed. It didn’t take long; you got used to traveling light in the profession he was in. Then he called a taxi and pulled open his laptop while he waited, booking the next flight to Barcelona. He felt no regret over leaving his apartment empty so soon, and after he cleared out what was left of the groceries he had bought he knew it would remain clean and waiting for him when he decided to come back.

 

Despite the long flight over the Atlantic Arthur forced himself to remain awake, worried about what would happen if he slipped into one of these new nightmares surrounded by people on a plane where he could not escape. Needless to say when the taxi he had called from the airport pulled up in front of a row of apartments along the promenade leading down to the shoreline, sun close to setting, Arthur was only half conscious.

 

He staggered into the building and took the elevator to the fifth floor, finding the number hastily scribbled down and knocking. He slumped against the doorframe, eyes falling shut as all his energy went into keeping himself from slipping away into a nightmare. He heard feet approaching and the door click open before, “Arthur?”

 

“You didn’t answer your damn phone,” Arthur muttered tiredly, struggling for the energy to lift his head.

 

That pulled a startled chuckle from Eames, “I threw it in the sea when I got here. I wanted to drop off the grid for a while and felt like something dramatic. I figured you found my note in case you really had to find me.”

 

Arthur looked up then, too tired to laugh but finding it funny anyway. He had been worrying about so many possibilities and absolutely none of them were true. Then he saw Eames’s face and his breath caught. His appearance was just like it had been when he shook Arthur’s hand at the airport but shock gripped his face. And slowly, ever so slowly, that surprise was melting away into the happiest smile Arthur had ever seen, made sweeter by Eames’s slow realization that this was reality. “Bloody hell, darling, you look a wreck.”

 

Arthur smirked, knowing he had made the right choice to come here. “Well aren’t you going to invite me in?”

 

**X – The Comforting Smile**

 

It happened that same night, when Arthur was still too tired to fully appreciate it.

 

Eames had pulled Arthur’s luggage inside before helping Arthur himself pass into the flat. The decor still wasn’t all that appealing, much like Eames’s choice in clothes, but it felt warmer in the flat since someone actually called it home. Eames had been eager to talk but quickly saw that Arthur could not even focus past his tiredness enough to hear what he was saying. He had offered for Arthur to share his bed but he refused, opting for the couch instead. Arthur could not even be bothered to change out of his clothes, instead just toppling over onto the cushions and leaving Eames to throw some light blankets over him as he was pulled down into sleep.

 

He had gone to sleep early so it was only a little past midnight when he woke up with a terrified scream. He struggled to set aside what had been a dream and what was reality but in an unfamiliar room he found himself shaking harder. Another figure was suddenly standing over him and he pulled away with a gasp, not quite able to determine if it was Eames or not. He finally got hold of his totem, crushing it in his fist like he wanted to absorb it under his skin. But he was still having a hard time grasping the boundaries of dream and reality.

 

“Shh, Arthur,” he heard Eames’s voice whisper by his ear, brushing sweaty hair and stray tears aside. Arthur would have been embarrassed if he had more energy, but it helped that Eames did not point this out or tease him. “You’re in reality now, love.” Arthur focused on that voice and the weight of his die in his hand, nodding eventually. “Good, now let’s get you more comfortable,” Eames spoke in hushed tones before suddenly slipping his arms under Arthur and pulling him up into his arms. “My my, you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

 

Arthur couldn’t think of a retort in time so he just allowed himself to be carried, feeling drained. Eames set him down on the side of the bed Eames must have slept on since the mattress and blankets were still warm when they were pulled over him. He was still trembling, snapshots of his latest nightmare flashing in front of his eyes. But he slowly calmed down and the flashes stopped as Eames curled up against him, wrapping his arms securely around Arthur. When he was finally back to normal with a grasp on reality Arthur tried to push him away, embarrassment overtaking him, “Leave me alone Eames, I’m fine.”

 

Eames scoffed and refused to let up his hold on Arthur, “You are far from fine, darling. Stop being so embarrassed; didn’t you ever think that you’re not the only one this is happening to?”

 

“You seemed to be doing fine when I got here,” Arthur defended tiredly, already feeling the pulls of sleep tugging at his consciousness again.

 

“Maybe I get further through the night than you before I wake up but I have still been getting these nightmares too, ever since inception. The first night I got here I bawled my eyes out; true story,” Eames chuckled against his ear. Arthur felt the other man brush his nose along his jaw line and neck where he could reach and Arthur was not sure why it felt so comforting. “But everything’s going to be alright.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Arthur muttered sadly. “It’s been getting worse every night for me.”

 

“Me too, pet,” Eames sighed, warm breath tickling Arthur’s neck. “But I have a feeling that now we’re together we’ll be able to fight off these nightmares and beat whatever this is.”

 

Arthur twisted around in the other man’s arms to look up at his face. Eames was looking down at him with a comforting smile tinged with sadness but also with determination. Arthur did not know how this man’s many smiles had such an effect on him but at this very moment he did not complain. The smile gave him a feeling that everything would turn out alright in the end and gave him the courage to lie back down against the pillows and allow sleep to take him again.

 

**XI – The Content Smile**

 

It had been a few weeks since Arthur had come to Eames’s flat in Barcelona and the nightmares were fading. The first week was awful since every night one of the two men would wake each other as they fell out of their nightmare, boundaries of dream and reality blurred. The next week was better where it would only be every other night one of them would wake the other with screaming. But their grasp on what was dream and what was reality was solidifying.

 

Now the dreams were become a rare occurrence that they sometimes discussed but otherwise just shrugged off and fell back to sleep. Arthur had been uncomfortable sharing a bed with Eames at the start but had given up when he noticed both of their improvements. And Eames had been surprisingly well behaved. Oh sure, he still flirted, but he only meant it playfully. Arthur was pretty sure the forger did not want to risk losing his bed mate and start to relapse.

 

Arthur sipped his mug of coffee while finishing off the scrambled eggs and bacon he had simmering in the large frying pan he had found under the stove. It was surprising how quickly he had adjusted to the cozy flat and to living with someone else. Just as he began to push the breakfast onto two plates he saw Eames stumble out of the bedroom and pour himself a cup of coffee. When he saw that Arthur was holding breakfast he smiled into his mug, picked up Arthur’s mug, and headed for the balcony clad only in some pyjama pants and a thin t-shirt.

 

Arthur followed and set the plates down on the small table they had set up so that they could sit in the morning sunlight that spilled onto their balcony and into the kitchen. “I see you finally managed to sleep in,” Arthur commented before taking a large bite of eggs.

 

Eames nodded happily, his plate already half empty, “I sure did. But what about you, pet? You’re up early; did you have another nightmare?” Eames asked worriedly, watching Arthur carefully over the rim of his mug.

 

“No, I just happened to wake up early this morning,” Arthur sent him a small smile before looking over the edge of the balcony as a few keen street performers began setting up along the promenade.

 

“That’s good,” was all Eames said before devouring the rest of his breakfast and sitting back in his chair, the epitome of relaxed.

 

Arthur took his time finishing his breakfast before he too leaned back in his chair. He watched the promenade for a short time and then looked up at Eames to find the man watching him. Sunlight spilled across his hair, getting caught up in those blue green eyes that were languidly watching Arthur. There was also a tiny smile on the forger’s lips and Arthur heard himself speaking before he could consider his words, “Which smile is that?”

 

Eames blinked in confusion even though the smile remained in place, “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

 

Arthur felt his cheeks flush but decided that he might as well continue on, having already started on the topic. “I’ve seen you give me a lot of different smiles over the years, all unique depending on what you’re feeling at that moment.” He looked down into his coffee cup nervously before meeting Eames’s eyes again. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

 

Eames hummed quietly, that happy yet soft smile still playing at his lips. “Contentment, love,” he met Arthur’s eyes before looking down at his lips, watching a similar smile come onto Arthur’s lips at his words. “This is a smile of contentment.”

 

**XII – The Thoughtful Smile**

 

The first time Arthur saw this smile was when he suggested that he sleep on the couch for a few nights while Eames use the bed in order to make sure that their nightmares were truly gone and not just repelled by the two dream workers sharing a bed. Eames had been unimpressed by the idea but relented due to his own curiosity and desire to know he could sleep on his own if necessary.

 

The first night Arthur curled up on the couch he immediately missed the comforting heat that Eames’s body always provided; now his back was exposed to the open air of the living room. But he drifted off eventually and managed to sleep through the whole night without even a normal nightmare tainting his subconscious. Eames found much the same but Arthur refused his request to return to the bed, saying he would in a week. Eames had sighed but nodded.

 

Arthur admitted to himself that he was extremely glad when the week was up. He and Eames sat across the balcony table from one another, explaining that once again they had not experienced any nightmares. It seemed as though they had managed to pull though the backlash from inception; almost like they had been sharing dreams and helping one another fend off the nightmares even without the device.

 

“I think it’s safe to say that we can manage to sleep on our own and not have to deal with nightmares or blurred reality now,” Arthur spoke into his mug, preparing to take a sip of cooling coffee.

 

Eames’s eyes shot up, “Does that mean you’re going to stay on the couch? Are you moving out?”

 

“What? No!” Arthur quirked an eyebrow up in confusion, “Why would I continue sleeping on that musty old couch when I can sleep in a perfectly warm bed?”

 

Arthur watched as an absentminded smile touched the other man’s lips. Eames’s gaze was looking over the balcony railing but Arthur could tell that the man was not seeing the promenade below. The forger was clearly lost in thought and was not currently functioning in the present. Arthur left him to it, determining from the smile that Eames was thinking about something that puzzled him but also made him smile. Besides, it was rather amusing watching Eames jolt back into the present with a sheepish grin.

 

Since that time on the balcony Arthur returned to sharing a bed with Eames.  He also continued seeing those thoughtful smiles play at the man’s lips on rare occasions Arthur could see no connection between.

 

It must have been nearly two months since Arthur moved in when he got an unexpected call on his cell phone. “Cobb!” he exclaimed in surprise at the extractor’s voice on the other end of the receiver.

 

“Hi Arthur,” Dom chuckled into the phone, “How are you? You dropped off the grid for a while.”

 

“Yeah...” he stood out on the balcony in the sunlight while thinking of all the text messages and phone calls he had ignored. None of them had been from Cobb, but Arthur assumed that Ariadne had probably gotten worried and told Cobb that he wasn’t answering his phone. “I needed some time away from everything to recover from the backlash of inception. Really bad nightmares,” he simplified, “But I’m fine now. How are you? How are you kids?” he hoped that Cobb could hear the smile in his voice at the thought of his friend finally returning home to his children.

 

“They’re great, Arthur, and so am I,” Arthur smiled down at the busy promenade at the joy in the man’s tone. “I had some backlash that sounds like yours as well, but it faded quickly as I spent time with my children. The others have recovered as well, in their own ways, though I don’t know how Eames is doing. He’s fallen off the grid too.”

 

“Eames is doing well,” Arthur reassured his friend before he realized what he was saying.

 

“Oh? How do you know?”

 

Arthur took a steadying breath, confident in his choices. Besides, it wasn’t like they were lovers or anything; they were just living together for company, “I’m actually staying at his flat in Barcelona. We helped each other through the backlash.”

 

“...Really? Well, that’s really good to hear,” Cobb seemed to recover from his apparent surprise quickly. “I was actually hoping to talk with you about some job opportunities.”

 

Arthur blinked in surprise, “I thought you were giving all that up to be with your children,” he stated it like a question.

 

“This is nothing like what we used to do,” Cobb immediately explained. “Now that my charges have been lifted I can do legal dream work again. There’s actually a place here in Los Angeles that has been begging me to put a team together to do some dream therapy. I was thinking you, me, Ariadne and Eames could pull together and try a few jobs out. If it suits everyone then the jobs will keep coming in this field and I’ll still be in the same city as my children.”

 

“A four member team?” he heard Eames come into the flat, returning with groceries. “Doesn’t that seem a bit excessive?”

 

“Not necessarily. We’ll have a four member team available for the tougher and more violent cases and we’ll be able to split up into pairs on the easier cases,” Cobb explained his reasoning, clearly having spent a lot of time considering every angle of this offer. “Listen,” Cobb spoke after a moment of silence, “think about it and let me know. You have my number.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Arthur saw Eames sit down at their balcony table curiously, “I’ll talk with you soon, Dom.”

 

Eames’s eyebrow rose, “That was Cobb?” Arthur nodded, taking his normal seat. “What was he calling about?”

 

“Catch-up, telling me a bit about how he and the rest of the team experienced backlash as well but dealt with it in their own ways,” Arthur held himself back from drumming his fingers along the wooden table, “and to suggest a job offer.”

 

He went on to repeat what Cobb had told him about the jobs, considering the possibility himself as he spoke. When he finished a silence fell between them as they both thought. Eventually Eames looked up at Arthur, “What do you think, pet?”

 

“I think that no matter how rich we are, we can’t spend the rest of our lives in this flat,” Arthur admitted, meeting Eames’s serious gaze. “We’ve beaten the backlash and need to face dream work again, or at least I do. And I think sooner or later we’ll miss the creativity, the freedom and excitement. This is our chance to rejoin that with our old teammates.”

 

Arthur saw that Eames was wearing another one of his thoughtful smiles, staring at the table with glazed eyes. Arthur did not know what the smile meant this time so he remained silent, leaving Eames alone to his thoughts. Finally the man looked up at him, determination joining the smile. “I think you’re right, love, and if you’re going back into the field you better believe I’ll be chasing your heels.”

 

**XIII – The Affectionate Smile**

 

If Arthur was honest with himself he probably should have noticed this smile sooner, but he had never quite been able to distinguish it from Eames’s smile of contentment. It got a lot easier to notice the difference though when Eames paired this smile up with affectionate gestures. But when he finally noticed the smiles, he began seeing it mixing with many of the other smiles Eames saved for him.

 

They had packed their things and flown to Los Angeles a few days after discussing the job further with Cobb. Eames was already out in the hallway but Arthur paused in the doorframe for a moment, looking around the small flat lit up by the morning sunlight. “I can’t believe I’m saying this…but I’m going to miss this place,” he admitted quietly.

 

He felt the other man come up behind him, leaning over his shoulder to look around as well before turning to Arthur. He cupped one hand against Arthur’s face, drawing his thumb along his cheekbone to grab the man’s attention before he gave that affectionate smile, “Don’t worry, love. It’ll be here waiting until you come back.” Those words along with that smile caused Arthur’s heart to flutter even though he pulled away in mild embarrassment. Eames just kept smiling and they headed down to grab their cab.

 

A few days later they walked into the building Cobb had given them the address for and took the elevator up to the correct floor where they found Cobb and Ariadne. The architect was hugging Cobb happily in greeting. When she saw them she rushed over to give them hugs as well and Arthur smiled to himself; she was still young at heart even after everything she had been through. Of course there was also a tint of desperation in her hug and Arthur wondered how she had managed through the backlash, wishing he could have helped.

 

Everyone else shook hands in reunion before Cobb began showing them around the office that owned the entire floor. The floor above them, Cobb explained, was the actual therapy centre, while this floor was for dream therapy. When Ariadne asked, Dom told them that they would be working to help patients in many different ways; helping them deal with regressed memories and problems, remembering things they’ve forgotten, or even helping them pull an identity for crimes done against that person.

 

“This sounds bloody boring, pet,” Eames muttered against his ear quietly while Ariadne asked more specific questions.

 

Arthur raised an eyebrow and glanced over at him, “You should be well aware of how dangerous _anyone’s_ subconscious can get, legal job or not. Or…” Arthur sent him a private smirk, “are you afraid you can’t cut it?”

 

Eames sat back in his chair with a huff just before Cobb began explaining that if they were still interested they would need to prepare for their first patient in a few days’ time. Arthur glanced over at Eames quickly, feeling the man’s gaze, and saw another content smile with a hint of added warmth, challenge, and affection playing on his lips. Arthur did not know what had caused its appearance but felt his heart skip again before he turned back to Cobb, saying he would pull up the information on their first patient.

 

Cobb gave Arthur the man’s name and the folder the therapy centre had on him. Arthur read it in the span of ten minutes, jotting down a few notes before excusing himself to his less than legal methods of information gathering. He figured that the other three members of their team would have their own aspects of the job to discuss.

 

He didn’t return back to his hotel room until long after the sun had set. He found Eames sitting under the covers of the bed reading a well worn book he had seen the man pluck from his bookshelf in Barcelona. “I was considering sending out a search party,” Eames joked with an amused smile, eyes still skimming over the pages.

 

Arthur set down all the information he had collected on the desk before quickly changing into pyjamas and lying down under the covers with a tired sigh. “Yeah, I guess I fell back into my role as Point Man a little too easily,” he allowed his eyes to drift shut.

 

“Darling, I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Eames chuckled. Eyes still closed, Arthur was startled to feel the bed shift and then warm lips quickly meet his own in an innocent kiss. But when he blinked his eyes open, unsure of how to take this, he saw that Eames was already back to reading his book.

 

That affectionate smile on the forger’s lips was the last thing he saw before drifting off to sleep.

 

**XIV – The Naughty Smile**

 

They were both drunk. Very drunk.

 

After their first successful dream therapy job the team decided to go out and get a drink together. Dom knew a great spot near the hotel with a bar set up to be a lounge for those who just wanted to drink and talk, with another section turned into a dance floor with flashing lights and music that controlled your heartbeat.

 

They had all started off pretty slow, talking and catching up more than anything else. Eventually when Cobb was finished his first drink and had let it pass through his system he nodded to everyone and headed to his car, heading home to his children. The others teased him good naturedly before wishing him a safe trip. That left three as they all grabbed another drink and continued talking.

 

Sometime later a young twenty-something guy with messy black hair came over and asked Ariadne to dance. Her cheeks were already a little red from her alcohol and she took his hand with a giggle. This left just Arthur and Eames sharing a couch and sipping on new drinks. “Do you think we should get Ariadne home?” Arthur asked Eames, a little worried.

 

“Let the girl live a little, darling,” Eames chuckled before throwing the rest of his drink back. “Besides, she’s far from drunk and she’s an intelligent woman. She can make her own choices.”

 

After that he and Eames chatted lightly or just sat beside each other in comfortable silence, sipping on drink number who-knew-what. A short time later Arthur felt the other’s man’s breath on his neck; he could smell the alcohol slightly as those lips barely brushed against his neck. Arthur shivered, “What are you doing?”

 

“The better question, pet, is what do you want me to do,” Eames pulled away with a wink, a dangerous smile on his lips. It was playful and flirty, but darker. It spoke of desire, lust, pleasure and promises. That smile made Arthur’s breath catch, wanting to do something that he knew he shouldn’t.

 

But why shouldn’t he? He asked himself as he and Eames supported each other and left the bar to find a taxi. He had sent Ariadne a text so she knew not to look for them, and as Eames’s fingers traced up and down his thigh in the backseat of the taxi he realized how much he wanted this. He had been trying to define his relationship with Eames for years; co-workers, team-mates, friends, roommates. It had progressed naturally over time as their relationship slowly developed into more than either of them had ever expected.

 

Where were they going now? Friends with benefits? Lovers? More? Arthur’s thought process fizzled out as they stumbled into their hotel room and Eames pushed him down on the mattress, climbing on top of him. Eames caught Arthur’s lips with his own in a hungry kiss made dizzying by lack of breath and too much alcohol. Arthur loved feeling the weight of Eames on top of him, feel his desire pressed stiffly against his thigh, feel the other man’s heat soak into his body.

 

Arthur tore Eames’s shirt away, running his fingertips along the expanse of skin presented to him. He whined and thrust his hips up shallowly when he felt Eames kiss and bite his neck below his ear, leaving a bruise, marking him. They were both shirtless and Eames was working on the zipper of Arthur’s pants when Arthur suddenly pushed him away, “Wait…” he struggled to catch his breath, holding Eames’s twitching hand still in his grasp. “Wait.”

 

“What is it?” Eames looked down at him, a mix of worry and impatience.

 

“If we’re going to cross this bridge,” Arthur swallowed nervously, “We’re not going to cross it drunk.”

 

He could almost see the man deflate sadly as he pulled himself off Arthur with a groan. Eames dropped a quick kiss to his lips before standing from the bed with a pained sigh, “Then you’ll have to excuse me, pet.”

 

Arthur watched the other man walk uncomfortably to the bathroom and heard the shower turn on a minute later. He wondered if he had well and truly screwed up even as he trailed his hand down guiltily to his straining length. It didn’t take long with his urgently hard strokes as he imagined Eames’s hand in place of his own. When he came, grunting softly, Eames’s name was on his lips which terrified him and made him desperate for more.

 

He cleaned himself up quickly and pulled himself under the covers sadly. Had he messed up his chance? He tensed when he heard the shower turn off, turning on his side so he wasn’t looking at Eames’s side of the bed. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he heard the bathroom door open and the light click off.

 

He was surprised when he felt Eames slip under the covers and curl up against Arthur’s tense back, one arm flung tiredly around Arthur’s waist. He felt Eames’s questing lips blindly run along his neck before he found the place under Arthur’s ear that he had marked and kissed it lightly. Then Eames let out a content sigh, breath tickling Arthur’s exposed back, and fell asleep. Arthur had been forgiven.

 

Arthur assumed that he probably wouldn’t see that naughty smile again after what had happened before, but he was sorely wrong. It seemed to be Eames’s new favourite smile to send at Arthur when no one else was looking, torturing him. Much to Arthur’s chagrin the smile had just as much effect on him when sober as it had when he was drunk.

 

As more time passed Arthur began over thinking the choice, wondering if he should cross this bridge or whether he should remain on the side he knew and understood, the side that was safe. Eames seemed quite happy to wait for Arthur to make a decision, driving him insane until that time came.

 

He recognized, ever so slowly, that he had been crossing bridges with Eames for years now, challenging the unknown to do its worst knowing they would battle it together. Realization hit like a lightning bolt about a week after this had all begun when he was walking home from a job: it was not the familiarity that made him feel safe…it was Eames. And that was all it took for him to make his decision.

 

Arthur strode into their hotel room, dumping his bag on the desk just as Eames stepped out of the bathroom. Hair dripping and mussed, skin covered in steam from the hot shower that had just been turned off, solitary hotel towel hanging dangerously low on the man’s hips. Eames barely had enough time to flash this new smile before Arthur had pushed him against the closet door and claimed his lips in determination.

 

Eames moaned in delight, one hand digging into Arthur’s dark hair to mess it up and pull his lips closer while the other hand circled his hips. Eames spread his legs and pulled Arthur closer so that their bodies were flush against each other as the kiss continued; Arthur’s clothing getting damp from the moisture on Eames’s bare skin.

 

But it wasn’t enough. Arthur spun them and led Eames distractedly to the edge of the bed where the forger toppled backwards, suddenly breaking their kiss. Arthur followed him down, grinding down against Eames’s towel which was slowly tented before leaning forward and marking Eames’s neck. “Arthur dear, I really must protest.” Arthur pulled away from Eames’s skin like he had been slapped, feeling his stomach drop away at the look of disapproval on the man’s face. “...You are not nearly naked enough.”

 

Arthur gave a bark of surprised laughter before reaching for his tie. But Eames caught it first and dragged Arthur’s lips down to meet his own, grinning wickedly when he pulled away, “Handy trick, I’ll remember that for later.” Arthur rolled his eyes but worked on removing his shirt while Eames carefully loosened his tie and threw it to the floor. When Arthur sat back to work on his belt he heard Eames grunt a second before he felt Eames’s towelled need thrust up against him. Arthur laughed and got off Eames to discard his pants and boxers and Eames groaned in frustration, “Fucking…tease…”

 

“Didn’t you always tell me that patience was a virtue?” Arthur smirked down at the man before throwing the damp towel away and taking Eames in his mouth. He didn’t really know what he was doing but judging by the noises that were escaping Eames’s mouth the other man didn’t notice or care. He felt Eames’s hand rest at the base of his skull, leading him lightly. Arthur followed the forger’s lead while twirling his tongue around when he could manage it. He fell into a steady rhythm until, faster than he could blink, he felt Eames pull his mouth away and Arthur found himself lying on his back. “What the hell?”

 

“Sorry love, but you’re going to have to wait your turn. I’ve been waiting to do this to you for years,” Eames gave Arthur that naughty smile that made the point man squirm. Those words, along with the smile made Arthur relinquish his momentary dominance. He saw Eames reach for the bedside table and produce a bottle of lube. He rolled his eyes but was distracted by a flash of pain as he felt a finger slowly press into him. Eames continued to prepare him slowly, carefully, “Remember to breathe, pet.”

 

Arthur gasped, only just then realizing that he had been holding his breath. But once he had air back in his lungs he could not hold back the moan crawling up his throat when Eames carefully replaced his fingers with his slicked up cock. He pushed in slowly and then remained motionless, even though Arthur could tell it was driving him insane. He finally gave up, “Move goddammit,” he muttered, trying to raise his hips up to take Eames in further.

 

“Now who’s being impatient?” Eames kissed the side of his mouth and began to move. Arthur had expected a quick pace, both of them already desperately hard, but he was surprised when Eames’s pace was steady, and _deep_, but slow. They were both breathing heavily and Arthur groaned into the man’s neck at feeling the slightly damn and warm skin brush along his cock as Eames continued his thrusts.

 

Eames’s pace began to speed up as Arthur lifted his hips to meet every deep thrust, helping him hit the spot that made him see stars. Arthur reached to grasp his own length but Eames smacked his hand away, creating a fist with his own hand for Arthur to thrust up into with abandon. Arthur was taken over by pleasure, burning heat pooling in his stomach as he was wound tighter. He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he gripped bunches of the bed sheets between his fingers, whispering things to Eames that caused the forger to lose his pattern as he thrust into Arthur harder.

 

“Eames, I—God, I’m--” Eames caught Arthur’s lips in a messy kiss, swallowing Arthur’s cry as he came against their stomachs. Arthur could barely focus on returning the kiss as he rode out his orgasm, both of them breathing each others’ air as their lips brushed. With a few more frantic thrusts Eames gasped his name against his lips and thrust all the way in, spilling himself inside Arthur. Hearing his name, drenched in passion, and feeling Eames’s warmth fill him sent another jolt of pleasure through his already oversensitive body, drawing a long moan from his lips.

 

Eames collapsed half on Arthur, both of them uncaring of the mess they had just created while they fought to slow their breathing. “We should…probably get cleaned up,” Arthur eventually panted, his heart rate returning to normal.

 

Eames nipped his ear, drawing Arthur’s attention to the smile decorating Eames’s face. “Want to share the shower?”

 

Arthur groaned half-heartedly, “Stop using that smile on me; you got what you wanted.”

 

Eames leaned back slightly in shock, trying to read Arthur’s face, “You think I only wanted a one time shag?”

 

Arthur blinked, suddenly unsure, “Did you?”

 

“Darling,” Eames smiled in disbelief, “I want to do this to you for the rest of your bloody life.” Arthur let those words sink in. He hadn’t let himself hope that Eames wanted more than just sex, too afraid of giving up his heart. But here he was, telling Arthur that this is what he wanted for the rest of his life…Arthur felt a smile pull his lips upwards, quickly mirrored by Eames, “Now seriously, shower.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Give us some time to recover.”

  
“Aww, did I tire poor Arthur out?” Eames leaned close with that dangerous smile on his face; the one that made Arthur want everything he thought he shouldn’t.

 

“Oh we’ll see who’s tired when I’m done,” Arthur smirked up at Eames as he sat up on the bed.

 

“Good,” Eames grinned at him, catching his lips quickly before pulling Arthur into his arms. “Because we have years to make up for,” Eames smirked as he kicked the bathroom door closed behind them.

 

**XV – The Loving Smile**

“You two act like the happy married couple that lives next door,” Ariadne rolled her eyes at Arthur while she handed him a steaming mug of tea.

 

Ariadne had recently bought a small townhouse, having taken quite avidly to these dream therapy jobs. Arthur had offered to help her move some furniture around when she had invited him over to have a look at her new place. They were now seated across from one another at the small kitchen table they had aligned with the largest window in the kitchen. “I have no idea what you’re referring you.”

 

“You and Eames,” Ariadne rolled her eyes again, “I’m surprised you two haven’t gotten your own place yet.”

 

“We do not act like a married couple,” Arthur scoffed, taking a small sip of the tea to test the temperature. “It’s not...like that.”

 

“Oh please,” the architect snorted into her tea, “If you don’t see it then you’re as blind as a bat.”

 

“Bats are not actually blind. They use--” Arthur tried to steer the conversation back to something that made sense.

 

“I know how bats see, Arthur,” Ariadne cut in with a tone of exasperation. “The point is that if you don’t see it then absolutely none of your senses are functional.”

 

“See _what_?” Arthur finally caved in and asked, not knowing where the girl was going with this.

 

Ariadne watched him over the rim of her mug as she took a long sip. She watched Arthur as he fidgeted with his mug, seeming to look for something in his face. When she found what she was looking for, whatever that was, she nodded, “The way Eames looks at you.”

 

When he said goodbye, Arthur found the architect’s words impossible to erase from his mind. He quickly fell into the habit of watching Eames more closely, wondering what he was supposed to be seeing. This sudden changed seemed to both confuse and amuse Eames, though the forger said nothing. Over the course of the week following Ariadne’s words Arthur watched as many of the smiles he had come to know and expect flitted across Eames’s lips. But he still didn’t know what he was supposed to see.

 

When he woke up Saturday morning he curiously watched Eames read a book beside him in bed. “You know, Ariadne said something funny the other day when I was visiting her new townhouse.” Eames hummed, indicating that he was listening. “She said that we act like a married couple and that she was surprised we hadn’t gotten our own place yet.”

 

Eames’s eyes flickered down at him as he smiled: affection, contentment, thoughtfulness. “She might be onto something.”

 

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked quickly, nervously.

 

Eames closed his book entirely and set it on the bedside table. “Well if we’re planning on staying here for a while to do more dream therapy it might be a smart idea to get our own place. I know we’re both rich enough to live in a five star hotel for the rest of our lives but I miss having a place we can call our own,” Eames explained while skimming his eyes around the plain hotel room.

 

Arthur thought for a moment and then pulled himself out of bed, reaching for his nearest pair of pressed slacks. “There’s something I have to do,” he explained poorly to Eames, who was watching him rush around doing up his shirt and wrapping his tie around his neck.

 

“Getting our own place was just a thought you know; we don’t have to,” Eames stated, unsure of what was going on.

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eames asked as Arthur shoved his feet into his shoes and picked up his bag.

 

“No, this is something I have to do on my own,” Arthur gave Eames a guilty kiss on the cheek before rushing out of the hotel room and down to the lobby.

 

With the car he rented from the hotel front desk it took him about two hours to reach his apartment. When he opened up his front door and stepped inside he found it just the way he had left it; clean, organized. He thought he might have needed to stay the night but it only took him five minutes in the apartment to realize that this wasn’t home.

 

The flat in Barcelona was home.

 

The hotel room was home.

 

Eames was home.

 

Arthur swallowed down this realization, calming himself down as he picked up his phone and dialled a number he had never planned to call. He was already on his way down to the apartment’s front desk when someone answered the phone.

 

It was late afternoon when Arthur parked the hotel car and returned the keys to the front desk. He anxiously waited for the elevator to take him to the right floor and was glad to find Eames in the room when he arrived, skimming through something on his laptop. The forger looked up at him when he heard the door close, a look of confusion and relief on his face.

 

That look made Arthur feel guilty for running away without explanation but also drew him towards the desk and the other man. He did not know how to segue into his news so he just said it, “I sold my apartment. As soon as we find a new place I’ll give the storage company the address and they’ll ship my belongings.”

 

Eames blinked silently, slowly coming to a standing position in front of Arthur as comprehension slowly dawned on him. And then Arthur saw it; what Ariadne had wanted him to see. A smile had overtaken Eames’s face that Arthur had never expected to see, even though it seemed utterly familiar now that he was seeing it.

 

It seemed to hold a little bit of every other smile Eames had ever sent Arthur’s way. That was when Arthur realized that this smile looked so familiar because he had been seeing it for many years, hidden beneath all of the other smiles. It was subtle and soft, speaking of trust, devotion and joy.

 

Eames wrapped one arm around Arthur’s waist, pulling him closer while the other one cupped Arthur’s face. Arthur continued watching that smile, feeling warm and cared for, like he was lighter than air. He knew with certainty that an identical smile was playing on his lips for Eames to see until the forger finally closed the small distance and caught the point man’s lips. It was a kiss that was slow, harmonized and breathtaking – a kiss for the sake of a kiss. Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames’s shoulders and pulled him closer, feeling how both of their lips were still curved upwards in that smile while they kissed.

 

It was love.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out [here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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